Music Playing: Sentient by Gavin Luke
I asked her how her therapies were going to which she affirmed, "They are are going rather well." I asked her this as I pushed her in her wheelchair. During any free time we had, I tended to spend much of time with her. So far, she still has some time to go before she's completely free. As she told me, she doesn't feel imprisoned. "In some sense, I am free, I think." she said. I asked her more about her conditional release and she told me that she still has to get used to kindness towards her.
"I suppose I truly am shattered if I can't quite comprehend kindness or patience." she said, before she changed the subject. She talked about how she'd readjust to society and that it's a process. She asked me if five years are really enough and I told her that it was a start. She told me that I was right in that she never had a chance, no matter how wealthy she was but, by now, I felt differently. "At first," I told her, "you didn't have a chance, however, you still have a chance."
"Oh?"
"You have a second chance, Sissie."
She was aghast at the realization and couldn't find the words but I continued the conversation. I told her that she's at home with her sisters, that the courts granted her leniency, that she's doing well with her treatment, and that her sentence is rather short, with all considered. She didn't have a chance at first but she has a second chance, though neither of us knew what to do with it. It was quiet for some time as we walked before she said, "Of all the things that I thought would have killed me, it was a botched suicide attempt that came close." I took her hand, telling her that her suicide attempt was another part of how her psyche had been wrecked. If anything, we'd have to wonder as to how or why she hasn't attempted sooner. As I thought about this, I remember the night we played under the stars and, out of the blue, I wound up asking her if she'd like to play again.
"Yes."
I took her to a park, and we sat, for hours, playing little board game. She didn't really know how to play but I don't think she minded. She was rather content to just play little game, snatching some bit of childhood she never got to have. We were playing until she placed her hand on mine. I made a note that she didn't conceal her scars, no, the hand she took mine with had her burn scars the most visible. It was awkward before she asked, "Is it 'progress' where I don't hide my scars anymore?" I reassured her that "progress" is in steps.
I took her home and we talked more about we'll do. She told me a list of things she never got to do, and I listened to each and every one of them. Most of them were mundane (like painting her nails) and some weren't things she could actually do (like dancing, considering her mobility) but, for the most part, she wanted very much to reclaim what her mother and circumstances had taken from her. I told her that we'd get to do almost all of those things as time goes on. On the surface, much of these thing were things people did but, for Satsuki, these things, in a sense, mean the world.
Deep within, as I knew and come to further realize, she's still the same mixed-up girl I got to know. Further within, she's still that same scared 11-year old, who had no choice. Currently, she's between being a child and an adult, trying to find her bearings after so long.
The next day, after her court ordered therapy session, we spent time at her home. I asked her how her session went to which she told me, "The therapist says I've made much progress." I asked her what exactly did they talk about and she told me they talked about her suicide attempt. I could tell she wondered if she'd truly put that behind her and I told her, "Satsuki, that'll be put behind you, too." I told her she could cry it out if she needed to. She didn't break down into sobs like I did, that day, but she did say, "As I felt myself dying, I felt a bit of regret but much of it was how, in the time I had, I never had enough to tell you all how much I loved you." She told me that she wished things were different and said, "I know that you wished we could go back to the way we were—I wish for that, too."
It was quiet for a spell before she said, "I think I'm content enough to slowly move forward." She then mentioned that she and her therapist talked about me. "She asked about you, I think, and I told her that you're the nicest. I told her that I've never had a friend before but I'm happy I got you." she said, taking my hand in hers. As we talked more, she told me that she still regrets burdening me the way that she did but, regardless, she's happy that she's made at least one friend in her existence. "In all my life, I never thought I'd have a friend, Nonon, but I have you." she said, softly.
Eventually night came, the sky cleared, and she suggested we go outside to look at the stars. "During my time in an asylum, I couldn't really see the sky so clearly, because of the chicken wire on the windows but I'm happy that I get to see them more clearly now." she told me, her eyes transfixed. Like that night, a bit of childlike wonder did return. I think her eyes glittered, if only for a moment.
The next day, as I've learned from Nui, I ended up staying the night, sleeping as I held Sissie's hand, under the stars.
We would go onto to do some of the things on her list of things to do, starting with painting her nails blue, a sparkling blue. There came tears, yes, but these were different. They were happy tears.
"Thank you, Nonon."
I knew that the idea of a second chance is quite alien to her. I knew that her mental illnesses won't ever be gone nor would the trauma ever be erased. I knew many things, but I knew she especially wouldn't be alone as she continues forward. She still had the Mankanshokus, her sisters, and, myself. She may not be completely free from the shackles and pains of the past, but she is free and, from what I could tell, that was just enough, so long as she has the ones she loves the most.
Notes:
Yes, Satsuki has quite a bit to recover from and, no, her mental illnesses/trauma don't go away. Maybe she'll be a little less "mixed up" as time goes on but she won't be completely mended. She still has a bit to readjust to, since she's spent the remainder of her youth in a mental hospital but, if it helps, she's going to get used to a "second chance", even if she'll never really know what do.
About the track, well, it fit the best and I've never used it in a fic.
